


and i know i've kissed you before, but i didn't do it right (can i try again?)

by Ephemeral_Joy



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: (the boys were never ghosts), Aged Up, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Break Up, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Memories, Moving On, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26792539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephemeral_Joy/pseuds/Ephemeral_Joy
Summary: Some things just can't be fixed with a song.(Julie and Luke break up.)
Relationships: Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Comments: 105
Kudos: 338





	1. what would happen if we decided to love harder? - Ada Limón

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote a lot of this on the train home. there was something melancholic about riding the train with strangers. i would like to say that i wasn't in a good headspace when i wrote this, and that i'd like to remind you all that while this was satisfying to write, you shouldn't be hurting to make art. please take care of yourself. i'm doing that right now. 
> 
> on a lighter note, it's comical how much my dyscalculia was fucking me over for most of the writing process lmao. even more clownery when i realised this was not gonna be a quick 2k one shot. 
> 
> edited | not beta'd | T for cursing | title from "pink in the night" by mitski  
> find me on tumblr @lydias--stiles

**JUNE**

'You never, ever, put me first!'

'You _know_ music is my top priority!'

'I do! I get that! But we're in a relationship, Luke. You can't just place me in the backseat every single second of the day.'

A vile chuckle left his lips. 'God, Jules, you're so emotional.'

'Excuse me?!'

'Don't act like you're better than me! We're pointing out flaws?! Fine. You are unable to congratulate my successes.'

She gasped. 'I do!'

'No, you see? Your voice went up. You're lying.’ He pointed at her, finger shaking. ‘Just admit you're jealous of my success!'

'The succes that _I_ gave you by forming our stupid band!'

'Our band was not stupid!'

'Apparently it was, seeing as you don't even remember your roots!'

Luke dragged a hand across his cheek, rubbing it raw. They've been yelling a each other for an hour, all the troubles that had been simmering underneath the surface with fury busted open when Luke had to raincheck a date. He felt guilty, but Julie would've surely understood? Wrong. Big, fat wrong. Fifteen minutes after his message, she had stormed into the studio with war on her mind. Leave no survivors.

The flames were licking at their feet, leaving a dangerous barrier between the two. The silence lasted for too long, Luke found. He shifted. This was going horrible, he should-- he wanted-- he needed--  
Julie was the first to speak again.

'I can't... I can't keep feeling like this. You can't keep feeling like this.' Her voice was thick with emotion, reminiscent of speaking of someone’s death. Luke froze. Was she...?

'It's not fair.'

He took two strides forward, sudden energy surging through his veins. War didn't have fought with weapons. 'Jules, what are you trying to say? That we break up?'

She shrugged, unable to look him in the eye. He felt himself flailing. All the anger he previously felt washed away with ice. It seeped in his body. _Breaking up_. The thought had never even crossed his mind and here she was, proposing it.

He felt sick in his stomach. 'Julie... we can fix this. Music is not worth making if I'm not doing it with you.'

'That's the thing. We've been through so much. And music healed us. Helped us. But now I want to be separate from music. I want you to see me and see your girlfriend. Not just a muse.'

Luke didn't understand. The nausea crawled up his throat. 'Can't you be both?'

She raised a brow. 'Can you make the difference?'

He clenched his jaw. This was unfair. Why was he the one having to change? 'Can _you_ be genuinely happy for me?'

'I am!'

Roaring: 'Jules, for fucks sake--!'

'Fine!', she screamed, raw. He heaved with contention at her admission. _Finally_ . Out in the open. 'I hate how you got big and I didn't. I hate that Flynn and Alex and Reggie all went onto bigger things and I remained "Luke Patterson's girlfriend". So, yes. I want to be happy for you - I really do, believe me - but I just _can't_.'

He dropped his gaze. He did notice how Julie was the one with the least succes of their group - he wasn't stupid. But she never complained. Never showed any signs of discontent. Luke knew her like the callouses on his fingers, but when she remained her normal, happy self, how should he have known?

'I never held you back.'

'I know,' she whispered. Her shoulders fell slack. 'That's just life, I guess. But it still hurts.'

He wanted to touch her, hold her hand, but he was afraid. Afraid he would lit the match again when both have calmed down. For now, at least. 

'I don't want to break up,' he said. 

'I don't want to feel like I'm watching my life pass me by. Not again.'

He gulped. Even if he was mad at her for her envious, passive aggressive comments over the last months, he still loved her. He didn't want to leave. 

'I thought you loved audio engineering? I thought you loved creating performance wear for the upcomers in the LA scene?' 

Tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes and he began to panic. Tears were not good. Tears meant Julie was at her breaking point. 'I do,' she choked out. 'But I've been with you since I was sixteen, Luke. I don't know anymore what it's like to be alone. I don't know who I am without you. And when it seems like you prioritise music over me in every possible way... I'm just done.'

'So that's it?’, he scowled, face twisted in an ugly grimace, ‘You're walking away from a six year relationship? Awesome. Fucking great.'

She shook her head. 'I'm sorry.'

'I wasn't going to give up, y'know? I knew we had some problems, but... but I thought we were stronger than that.' He crossed his arms. Julie straightened her back, staring right back. Green met brown, but now, it wasn't nice. It felt deadly. 

'Some things just aren't fixed with a song, Luke.'

And then Julie ran out. And he knew he should've ran after her. But he had too much pride. If this was what she wanted - fine. How many empassioned speeches could he have about how much he adored her before it became hollow? He couldn't run after her because he had nothing to say. Everything has been said. Julie broke up with him.

He found her packed bags in the tiny hallway of their apartment, fuschia duffle bags stacked neatly on top of one another. He wanted to kick down the tower, a reason for her to stay and restack. Kick it down again. Repeat repeat repeat. His eyes found her sitting on the balcony, a block of cement with two thrifted lawn chairs they got for less than a dollar. Everything in this place was theirs, memories shared with every piece they've touched. How could they just stop? How could he move on from the life he was living? What came after?

She was overlooking the salty beaches of LA, breathing deeply. He joined her. A foot apart.

'I love you, Jules.' 

They glanced at each other, quivering lips and wet eyes and it felt like someone pushed him off the edge of a cliff. He touched her hand. 

And then the dam broke. Sobs wracked her body as she threw herself into his arms, her tears mixing with his. They smeared each other's clothing, both shuddering from the loss of the life between them.

She cupped his cheeks, kissing him once, twice, a third time that felt so final it made him ache.

'I love you, Luke.'

The ghost of her body was drifting in the empty spaces ten minutes later, when she silently grabbed her bags by the door and left. He should've kicked them.

* * *

Julie found her name card first, _#1 BFF Julie_ written with purple glitter pens and adorned with stickers. Her heart lifted at the sight; the world could burst into flames, and Flynn would still manage to make her smile. 

‘Julie!’, Flynn squealed, throwing the paper on the ground as Julie sprung into her arms, wrestling each other into a hug in the middle of the airport. It looked like reunion of insane lovers - and in a different lifetime, Julie thought, they would’ve been.

After her teary-eyed exit of their LA apartment, she took the first flight to New York City where her best friend and rapper extraordinaire resided. (She got onto _Forbes_ “30 Under 30” just last month.) Flynn didn’t even give it a second thought, saying there was already a drawer free and a space in her bed. 

‘Flynn, I’ve missed you _so_ much!’

‘Ditto, girl! These New Yorkers are sharks!’

Julie grinned, hooking their arms together. ‘Good thing you’re the biggest one.’

Flynn’s apartment in Williamsburg was small but cozy; just enough that they wouldn’t drive each other up the wall. Old Victorian elements, a fireplace that was unusable, an obscene amount of fake plants, an ancient stove that would probably kill her, and large windows. Julie smiled at the air filtering through. If she blurried her gaze and tilted her head, she could almost imagine she was in her childhood home’s garage. She could almost imagine laying on the sun-beaten grass with her mother pointing at clouds. Yeah, this place would do. 

‘I love it.’

‘Eh, you’ll come to hate it. I have cute neighbours though.’

Julie sent her a look at the knowing tone in Flynn’s voice. The girl raised her hands in defense. 

‘What? I’m just saying…’

‘i came here to escape-’ She couldn’t say his name. She couldn’t cry again. ‘- not to find a boytoy.’

‘Right. Sorry.’ Flynn paused, studying her. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

What was there to talk about? She broke things off, he told her he loved her and if she knew him well enough - which she did - she knew he was writing lyrics or shredding his guitar to pieces right this second. It felt gross knowing how everything was unfolding. How normal that seemingly was. Their new normal. No random texts anymore. No braids found in the mess of her hair he absentmindedly made when they watched TV together. No _them_ . Julie gulped and collected her thoughts. She wanted this, nay: _needed_ this. Finally a break from the universe revolving around Luke. 

She shook her head. ‘I’m good.’

‘That’s actually very convenient, because I have a shift to go to!’ Right. Flynn worked as a barista to support her singing career. She rushed to grab her stuff and kissed her cheek. ‘Lock the door if you go out. Love you, see you tonight, bye!’ And then she banged the door shut, leaving Julie alone with the silence. 

She remembered apartment hunting with Luke, twenty and dumb and with a little bit of credit. It was the fifth place they saw and both instantly knew. Sure, the oven didn’t always cooperate and most cabinets were jammed and the walls were paper thin, but it had a certain charm neither could put their finger on. Maybe it was the rings of wine staining the hardwood floors, that one doorframe painted pink, the small holes in the walls that held memories and history. Maybe it was the skateboard keychain they found in the closet. 

(Or maybe because it was right across a flower shop selling dahlias and Julie was a firm believer in cosmic signs. But Luke didn’t need to know that.)

(Months later he confessed he did know. She loved him a little more that night.)

She remembered their first night in the apartment, sitting on the floor while their air matress was blowing up and they were eating ramen and clementines. A simpler time. A different life.

Julie blinked the tears away and began unpacking. 

Freshly showered and in a new, purple jumpsuit, Julie wandered around Williamsburg. The last time she visited New York was years ago when they went on a national tour with the band. Their flight was delayed and made it in the nick of time, no time for a soundcheck but they rocked the house anyway. _Rolling Stone_ gave it five stars. They left for Boston instantly afterwards, so the band never had time to sightsee.

Flynn told her during their frantic messages hours before that New York wasn’t as scary as the movies made it seem. That it was really just a small town. Julie disagreed. Williamsburg in of itself seemed like a metropolitan of its own, and that was just one part of Brooklyn. But the vastness and anonymity eased her mind. No one knew her and no one cared to know. She was just-

‘Julie?!’

Alex appeared in front of her, hair longer and face tanner and oh my God, Flynn was right. 

‘Oh my God, Alex!’ She rushed to embrace him, smile hurting her cheeks as he laughed in her ear. 

‘What’re you doing here, why’re you not in LA? Is Luke here too?’

Her smile fell. Alex’s eyes widened. 

‘We broke up.’

He was speechless. ‘You- you did? Luke hasn’t told me.’

‘I happened, like, five hours ago. So.’ She averted her gaze. She wasn’t about to cry on a busy street where all the hipsters could judge her. Alex tentatively held her shoulders. 

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah.’ Swiftly wiping the skin under her eye, she mustered a smile. ‘How are you?’

‘Good,’ he smiled, wary. ‘Yeah, I’m good. Willie moved in with me. The label is liking the songs I’m turning out. My barista remembers my coffee order now.’

‘That’s amazing, Alex!’

‘Yeah, yeah… uh, do you… I don’t know what to do, Julie.’

She sighed. ‘You don’t have to do anything. I’ll be fine.’ 

‘Okay.’ He grabbed her hand. ‘Do you want to grab a coffee? Catch up?’

‘I’d love to.’ 

* * *

Luke stared at his phone, willing it to _ping_ and showcase a message from Julie. She was saved as **Jules 💜** on his phone. He figured he should remove the heart now. And then he did. He threw his phone on the kitchen counter, angrily pacing back and forth with the conversation replaying in his head. 

He couldn’t think. Couldn’t fathom what the fuck was happening. Just weeks ago they were dancing in the kitchen to a Beatles song, foreheads pressed together and smiles so bright it hurt their cheeks. _Fuck_. He should’ve gone after her. He should’ve, he should’ve, he-

Luke kicked the jammed cabinet, door flying open and revealing all the mugs Julie had taken with her. She left the one with their picture on it. It was a Secret Santa gift from Reggie when they were eighteen and on the brink of international stardom. A lifetime ago. He threw the door shut. 

He couldn’t be here anymore. 

In a state of mania, he drove to the studio and crawled in a corner between amps and instruments, hunched over his tattered songbook. His writing was messy and unreadable, but it made sense to him. It made holes and scratches and his fingers were red but the fog in his mind finally made some sense. Gave rhythm to the pain. Hurt became words. 

Luke met Julie in sixth grade. He got expelled from his old school for being a “disturbance” and Julie’s shool had accepted him with reluctance. He was just a hyper kid with untapped energy. (In seventh, he’d discover the guitar, and suddenly all that energy was directed somewhere. He would also get diagnosed with ADHD, so that helped too.) She was his deskmate, a girl with untamed curls and a loud voice. They became instant friends, along with Flynn. In middle school, they met Reggie and Alex and the rest was history. A pack of five, indestructible. He started having a crush on her in eighth grade at the spring formal, when they slow danced and Julie smiled at him in a way he never noticed before. They started a band in ninth grade and the boys teased them mercilessly for their “chemistry” - as much chemistry two pubescent teens could have at the time. He first kissed her when he got his driver’s license and took her out for a ride. It was in a Target parking lot and people were hotboxing in the car next to them, but it was perfect. They even became Homecoming Prince and Princess the year after, those ridiculous crowns probably stored somewhere. For as long as he could remember, Julie was a constant in his life. Unwavering. Irrevocably. 

And now she was gone. 

Luke dropped his pen, the pain aching his chest and ribs and throat and tears burned his eyes. Tasted salt on his lips. 

His phone pinged, hands lurching to grab the device only to be disappointed when it was just Reggie. Probably with his daily memes. 

**_what happened??_ **

Attached was screenshot of Julie’s Instagram. His name was erased from her bio, her feed devoid of pictures of them together. He clenched his jaw. Erasing him seemed to go quite easy for her. 

**_we broke up_ **

**_where are u?? im coming_ **

Luke smiled. Reggie was the most loyal person he’s ever met. But right now, he had to be alone. 

**_come by the apartment tmw_ **

**_wanna be alone rn_ **

**_ok…_ **

**_be safe_ **

**_no worries dude_ **

He stayed in the studio until dawn, found half-sleeping, half-writing by his producer Peter. The startled man gave him a ride home, not saying anything but knowing perfectly well what happened.

‘You’re not the first,’ he muttered as he dropped him off at the building, cracking a smile. Luke didn’t smile back. His hands were clenched around his songbook, afraid the pain would slip between the pages and shatter onto the pavement. 

Reggie was already waiting for him inside. One look at each other and Reggie hugged him tightly. Luke crashed, knees giving out as they dropped to the floor. His entire being shivered with remorse and guilt. Normally, songs helped him gain perspective again. But as he sat on the floor with a worried Reggie, he knew writing some songs wasn’t going to help. At least not initially. 

‘She’s gone,’ he hiccuped. ‘She left me.’

The days following, Reggie came by the apartment often. Keeping him company during dinner, jamming with him in the studio, putting the beers on his tab at the bar. Luke told him time and time again he should be with his girlfriend and practise with his own band (Mistress Motel, an alt-jazz band who were highly favoured in Europe), but Reggie dismissed him. “You need a friend right now,” he always said. Julie was never not in his mind, though, as much as Reg tried to distract him. She was the empty space in their bed, the cold chair, the vanilla shampoo in the shower, the perfume that was seeped into his wool sweaters. Even the fucking jar of peanut butter reminded him of her. She was everywhere.

After two weeks, Reggie convinced him to look at the songs he wrote. 

It was painful, his emotions so transparent and unapologetically on paper. Regardless, it was good. Really good. Universal and Peter had been nagging him for something new after his last album dropped nearly a year go; with these songs, he could release an EP. But did he want to showcase his bloodied and broken ribcage to the world? Wasn’t it too much? He showed Reggie the least intense one and he said they were incredible and that he should record them _pronto_. Luke supposed that was the push he needed. 

He lived in the studio that week, sleeping bag on the shabby couch and clothes in a suitcase. Peter popped in every so often to help with the production, but Luke mostly handled it himself. Julie taught him a thing or two. In the end, he felt like he could finally, genuinely, smile again. Not for long or quite as wide as it used to be, but it was a start. He had an EP. He sent the work with a hastily made album cover to Universal and now all he could do was wait. 

He slept well that night.

**Rolling Stone**

_6/28/20_

Singer-songwriter Luke Patterson’s new EP _empty apartment_ is an eclectic mix of songs about lost love, ranging from acoustic folk to his familiar punk sound. It is a new direction for the singer, who usually strays away from overemotional songs (with the exception of “Emily”, a hit single released with his previous band: Julie And The Phantoms). 

While the songwriting is stellar and the sound unique, it feels more like a therapy session rather than a work that had to be released. Despite this, I’m sure it will resonate with a certain type of audience. 

★★★★

\- Margaret Holland, editor-in-chief

**JULY, NEW YORK CITY**

Julie wondered if she should listen to it. Honestly, she should’ve expected this. Luke and her drew from the same pain, it only was a matter of time before he dropped an EP about her. She has written songs as well, but they’ve remained on paper. 

She clicked the article away and closed her laptop. She had to get ready for work.

After a week of laying on Flynn’s couch contemplating life and crying, she began looking for a job. Her focus was obviously in production and performance wear, but she couldn’t just waltz into the city and demand a job in that intimidating field. And so, she took on the night shift at a busy pub close by the apartment. It paid pretty well, her colleagues were nice and the atmosphere was great. Plus, she could work on her music during the day now. 

The songs were… different. Flynn flat out said they were deeply depressing, but it _worked_. It salvaged her emotional wounds. She remembered being fifteen and blankly staring at the ceiling in her mom’s garage, one week after her death. She’d been feeling numb for months as that dreadful day approached, and when it did, Julie didn’t even cry. Her mom had been dead the second they got the stage four cancer results. She remembered Luke walking in and wordlessly grabbing his acoustic guitar, playing a soft, familiar tune. It was enough to make her cry and ease the tension in her chest and he cried with her. They wrote so many songs after that, every single one healing her a little bit more. It was as if her mom’s soul was in each of them. Her mom was music, and that helped Julie push through even to this day. 

Seven years later, she did it alone. Her break-up was art now and that soothed her. If only she could perform them now, pull the words from the paper and make it tangible. She heard the instruments and its composition in her head, but wasn’t ready to ask Flynn to lend her studio time. It was expensive and Flynn’s career was obviously a priority. 

She made it at the pub by ten pm. Everything was already in full swing as she clocked in and passed Bethany on her way. The girl bid her goodnight and left. It was packed. Barstools were filled with men in suits clamoring around a tv, tables with chattering girls, a flirt in the corner with an even more flirtatious girl, two obvious tourists, college students dancing to the popular song booming through the speakers, and in the far corner: the regulars. A group of old men playing billiards, undisturbed. She has only been working here for two weeks, but it already felt strangely like home. Gary, a regular, even greeted her by name sometimes. 

A guy slipped in front of her, hands placed on the bar top. ‘An IPA, please.’

She poured his drink, feeling his gaze in the periphery of her eyes. He tapped his card against the register and asked: ‘Are you… Julie Molina?’ 

Her heart halted for a moment as she slammed his glass down. ‘ _What_?’ How the hell did he know her name? 

The guy sensed her discomfort and raised his hands in surrender. ‘Wow, sorry, uh, aren’t you from that band? The Phantoms?’

 _Oh_ . Julie often forgot that for a while, they _were_ famous. Like, curated-Spotify-playlists-famous. The band disbanded when they were nineteen though. It has been nearly four years. Then again, they did have a cult following. Maybe the guy was.

‘Oh. Yeah. I am. We don’t play anymore though.’

He grabbed his glass. ‘Yeah, my friends were sad, man. They were really big fans.’

A smile pulled on her lips. ‘Yeah?’

‘Their favourite was “Edge of Great” and “Emily”.’ He laughed, nostalgic, and Julie felt herself grow fond. It was like looking at the video of yourself from your childhood. ‘I remember crushing on the drummer _hard_.’ 

She scrunched her nose. ‘Sorry, he’s taken.’

He laughed. ‘I think I’ve gotten over it by now, but thanks. Do you still play though? Like, alone?’

Yes, she wanted to say. Yes, I have a songbook filled with songs that were frothing at the mouth for a chance to be sung. Her throat tickled at the thought. 

‘Kind of,’ she said instead. 

He nodded at the stage. ‘Why not sing here?’

‘What?’

‘Yeah.’ The way he said it made it sound like the most obvious proposition in the world. And maybe it was. Maybe she was waiting for a cosmic sign and this was it. But what if they didn’t like it? It wasn’t exactly a fun, upbeat song - she’d be a wet blanket. She didn’t want to ruin people’s Friday night by crooning about her ex. A _famous_ ex. One everyone probably knew about and those with a keen eye would have noticed by now they weren’t posting together anymore. 

‘What? No.’

‘I think you can leave the bar for five minutes.’ 

‘When I said “kind of” I actually meant I haven’t sung professionally since I was nineteen.’

He dismissed her, throwing his hand behind his shoulder. ‘Time and age is a social construct. Please, I can tell you want to.’

Julie bit her lip, staring at the stage that was beckoning her like a siren. Maybe she should start taking sixteen year old Julie’s advice: maybe she _was_ standing on the edge of great. She steeled herself and nodded at the stranger, him hooting victoriously as he downed his beer in one go. She excused herself with Lucas, her colleague, and rushed to the stage. No one paid attention to her. The guy raised his empty glass to encourage her. Julie supposed that was the push she needed. 

‘Hi,’ she muttered into the microphone. People close to the stage looked up. She sat down behind the old keyboard that had a permanent spot “since 2003”, Lucas said when they hired her. She recognised the model as one of 2011, but she didn’t have the heart to tell him that. The pop music stopped, cutting the room in silence and the crackling of the mic. ‘I’m Julie. You’ve probably seen me behind the bar. This is an original song called “wasn’t meant to be”. Thank you.’

_I never should have called  
_ _'Cause I knew you would leave me  
_ _But I didn't think you could do it so easily  
_ _And I never should have held your hand  
_ _On that cold rainy night  
_ _'Cause, further along, it would cause another fight_

The talking stopped entirely, even Gary and his friends pausing their game to look at her. She closed her eyes, feeling too much it was unbearable to see their gaze. 

_Stranger, that's all I see  
_ _When I look into your eyes  
_ _A soulmate who wasn't meant to be  
_ _Stranger, who knows all my secrets  
_ _Can pull me apart and break my heart  
_A soulmate who wasn't meant to be

The chorus flowed into the second verse and bridge and the moment was nearly over and Julie wanted to cry. Cry because she was so goddamn happy and cry because it took so goddamn long to get back on stage and cry because it felt like she was finally regaining her soul and cry because she was fucking allowed to. 

The last notes lingered in the air as she opened her eyes. She watched the crowd and saw people that cried for her, silent tears clinging to their cheeks. Others smiled at her, supportive. The guy was now next to the stage with his hands clasped together. 

She let out breathy smile. ‘Thank you.’ _Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you -_

The crowd erupted into an enthusiastic applause, those that were seated springing upright to hoot and whistle. People clapped her on the back and squeezed her shoulders and Julie hasn’t felt this loved and seen in what felt like an eternity.

The stranger hugged her, but she didn’t mind. She hugged him back. 

‘You were amazing! Please tell me you’re on Spotify.’

She grinned. ‘Thank you! And yeah, Julie and The Phantoms is still-’

‘No.’ He peered at her. ‘I meant you. Are _you_ on Spotify?’

 _Oh_ . He wanted more. Pride swelled in her chest. It may just be one person asking, but she also touched the hearts of others tonight. _They_ wanted more. And she never wanted to miss that feeling of euphoria again. She let out an awkward puff of laughter. 

‘Uh, soon. Yeah. Soon.’

‘Awesome. I’m Miguel by the way.’

She shook his hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Miguel.’ 

Somehow, her performance made it onto someone’s Instagram story and on Flynn’s feed, which was a cause for celebration at the apartment. Flynn opened a cheap bottle of champagne and filled coffee mugs to the brim. The fact that it was nine in the morning didn’t faze her. 

‘To the start of your new life!’

The ghost of someone that wasn’t there lingered around her, but she pushed it away with the _clink_ of their mugs. ‘To my new life!’

Later that afternoon, after Flynn had gone to the grocery store, Julie was staring at her laptop screen again. Facebook was open on Luke’s page, the chat tab mocking her. Their last conversation was the beginning of the end. She wanted to type something to get rid of it, but what was she supposed to say? _Congratulations on the EP_ ? _How are you_ ? Or worse: _I miss you_. 

It’d be a lie if she didn’t wrote that though. She missed his smell and the way he always sat way too close even if the situation didn’t call for it. She missed snuggling up to him (cuddling sessions with Flynn were great, just not the same), she missed hearing him hum in the kitchen as he made omelets. She missed sitting on the countertop and watching him make the omelets. She missed seeing someone that reminded her of him and snapchatting him a picture of it. She missed having a random drawer filled with stuff he always lost. (And then never finding it because it was in the drawer.) She missed Luke. 

But she couldn’t write that. Nor could she congratulate him on something she hasn’t listened to. Julie snorted a laugh: the EP could be absolute shit. The thought made her close Facebook, getting further away from the danger zone. Instead, she grabbed her songbook and began scouring the web for possible recording studios in the area. She still wasn’t comfortable asking Flynn for help; she wanted to do this on her own. 

She found a SoundCloud artist renting out his home studio for a couple of hours a week on Craigslist. Anyone sane would realise the guy was probably a murderous psychopath that would cut out her vocal chords and sell it on the black market, but Julie was desperate. She sent him a message. He replied an hour later with the proposition to meet up later and another hour later she was on the subway to Queens. 

The guy was exactly what she expected: white, dreadlocks, and tattoos on his knuckles. His name was Oliver and he seemed nice enough; No psycho-killer vibes. (Flynn _would_ kill her if she found out about what she did though. Whatever. Julie had 911 on speed dial.) 

(Luke was right under 911. She hasn’t found the courage to change it yet.) 

‘So, this is the mic. Don’t break it. Soundbooth is well insulated, uh, you know anything about working the mixing board?’ 

‘I studied audio engineering in college.’ 

‘Oh. Dope.’ He scratched his dreads. ‘Well, you got five hours. I charge extra if you wanna use my instruments.’

Julie had her guitar and keyboard with her, the rest she would add digitally. Politely declining his offer, he left her alone. A content sigh left her lips, fingers brushing the tools with admiration. He took good care of his stuff. If she was allowed to use his space for a month or so, she could create all the songs that have accumulated in her songbook for the past months; Even before they broke up, Julie had been writing. It was now simply selecting the ones she wanted to work on and make killer tracks.

Memories of a pimply fourteen year old Julie playing with Luke, Alex and Reggie for the first time evaded her mind. They were so innocent back then. How they were passing around the bowl of jellybeans and decided on their band name, based on their parents’ disapprovement of their friends and interests. Phantoms, as if they’d be able to disappear after the performance so their families wouldn’t find out. It was pretty depressing, thinking back. It made them happy though. They were all so happy. 

(She also remembered Alex coming out to his family in junior year and sleeping on the couch of the garage for a week. How he told her he wanted to become an actual phantom. She got him off the edge and promised him she’d never leave him. Alex and her became true siblings after that.)

July came and went. It passed in a blur of working on songs, bartending at Sunset Pub, drinking champagne out of mugs, reconnecting with Miguel and having dinner at Alex and Willie’s place. They lived in a richer part of Brooklyn, with Willie’s promising skateboarding career and Alex’s breakthrough as a solo artist giving them a decent income. (AKA, they didn’t have to go to a laundromat and the building didn’t smell like piss.) Willie was apparently on the brink of a Red Bull sponsorship, so it were exciting times for the couple. 

She broke the news to them one Thursday night. ‘I’m recording music again.’

Alex looked up. ‘You are?’

Julie grinned. ‘Yes.’

Willie hooted in celebration, Alex springing upright to the other side of the table and embracing her into a bear hug. ‘Jules! That’s amazing!’

The nickname stung, but she moved on. ‘Thank you! I’m nearly done, actually. Finalising one of the songs and maybe changing the backing vocals on another, but--’ She shook her head, in disbelief of her own power. ‘I’m back in the game.’

Willie grinned from ear to ear, spearing his steak and raising it in the air. ‘A toast to Julie!’

The two laughed and mimicked him. ‘A toast to Julie!’

‘A toast to me!’

Nights later, after Julie came home from the bar at four am, Flynn was waiting on her. She didn’t have to say anything for Julie to know what she thinking.

‘Let’s do it now.’ 

The girls settled on her bed, Julie grabbed her laptop and went to the Spotify for Artists tab that had been open since the day she decided to start recording. The album was there, ready to be released. Flynn helped her create the cover. The cursor lingered on the button that would change her life. Flynn snatched her hand and Julie squeezed hard. Adrenaline thundered in her chest, feeling as though she was about to bungee jump from a bridge. 

(She did bungee jump. Once. With Luke. Eighteen and on a road trip together. She remembered it so vividly because all of the sudden, “Finally Free” began to play on the radio and Luke nearly crashed the car in excitement. They stopped on the side of the road, turned the volume to its maximum and danced as passing cars honked at them.)

It felt exactly like that. 

Julie smiled, pressed their temples together, and clicked _release_.

She didn’t sleep until cars began honking in the street.

**AUGUST, LOS ANGELES**

**Rolling Stone  
** _ 8/5/20 _

NEW ARTIST ALERT! Or rather: a superstar returning to the scene. Julie Molina, better known for being the lead singer of Julie and The Phantoms (2011-2016), made her comeback with the EP  _ metamorphosis _ , recounting the break-up with a lover. It is a mix of deeply chilling ballads and upbeat pop songs, ending with a crescendo of hope with “Night Bus”, where Molina contemplates to go back. 

While production is clunky at times (likely due to self-publishment - which also has its charm), her writing and musicality saves face. I for one am curious to see where this metamorphosis takes her. And you should too. 

★★★★★

\- Kennedy Birch, editor of NAA

Luke was flabbergasted, a ridiculously goofy smile smacked on his face. Jules… wrote again? No, he corrected himself, Jules had a full-blown  _ EP _ . He perused the article again. In just two months, she disappeared without another word, self-published an entire piece of work and grabbed the attention of Rolling Stone. Artists that got the stamp of approval of Kennedy Birch always ended up on the smaller stages at festivals. Fondness grew in his chest, eyes tracing over the words  _ Julie Molina _ again and again and again. He hasn’t seen those words in a long time. And then:  _ where Molina contemplates to go back.  _ ****

One week after Luke’s EP dropped, he moved out of the apartment. As much as the success brought him joy, he couldn’t bear to be in the same place he built a life with Julie. He lived in a slightly fancier, one bedroom loft now. Big windows, high ceilings, stainless flooring, cabinets that opened and closed seamlessly. It was devoid of Julie and while that hurt, he could finally sleep at night without feeling the ghost of her next to him. Her perfume didn’t linger in the curtains. He didn’t expect her to be at the door anymore every time the bell rang. He hasn’t shared his new address with her.  ****

The loft was a little cold, but it was okay.  ****

After the EP dropped and Julie never texted him, he figured that was a sign he should start moving on. She didn’t congratulate him, didn’t give a hint she listened to it, didn’t come back, didn’t… she didn’t do anything. It should’ve made him angry (and it did, for a minute), but he was tired of fighting with himself.  ****

But she was  _ contemplating _ . He felt like a fool digging for gold and likely ending up with rocks, but the seed grew in his stomach. Pulled the invisible string behind his navel taut. Was this EP calling for him? A message that she was ready to talk? Lurching to the keys, he went to his Spotify and found the release, a picture of butterflies appearing on screen. He grinned; she has always had an affinity to those.  ****

He remembered being eleven and coming over to the Molina household for the first time. He was pretty nervous, cause parents usually didn’t like him. But then Rose opened the door with a warm smile and Spanish music played from every corner of the house and Carlos, seven at the time, yelled at the Wii Sports bowling game and he instantly felt at ease. She ushered him to the garden where he found Julie with her nose in a bush. She silently motioned at him to come closer and pressed together they observed two butterflies dancing around each other. They were monarchs, her mom later told them. Julie cried when she also told them people liked to catch them and hang them on the wall. Ever since that afternoon, Julie has been protective of butterflies.  ****

He remembered kissing her after a particularly great performance on Sunset Boulevard and that the butterflies woven in her hair tickled his cheek. He remembered her tacking butterflies on her graduation cap. He remembered the time a butterfly had followed them inside their apartment and nestled itself into Julie’s newly bought dahlias.   
Yeah, he thought, butterflies suited her. ****

The loft was a little cold.  ****

Luke clicked  _ play  _ and closed his eyes. ****

The songs flowed into one another, the sound eerie yet familiar, her raspy voice suiting the lyrics perfectly. If it weren’t about him, he would’ve thought it wasn’t his thing. A little too slow. A little too sad. But this was Julie, and it  _ was  _ about him. The pain she described was about him; the doubts, the anguish, the melancholy, the hope. Buried memories rushed to forefront, hands gripping the desk and forehead pinched.  ****

Finally, as if a veil was lifted, he understood. He understood everything.  ****

While she had also been in the wrong, he finally got it. Why she was mad, why she wanted him to choose her, why she  _ left _ . Breath choked in his throat. He missed her so much.  ****

He missed that the curtains didn’t have her lingering perfume, he missed that her nearly empty bottles of shampoo didn’t hoard the shower, he missed that no butterflies followed him in here, he missed her laugh whenever Flynn called, he missed the smell of empanadillas whenever she felt like making it, he missed how her hair tickled his cheek, he missed waking up and seeing her face, he missed he missed  _ he missed he missed he missed he missed.  _ ****

The loft was a little cold without her. ****

Julie made mistakes, but he did too. How come he let it get so far that she felt like second place? Maybe, she was. For a while. Maybe he didn’t realise until she pointed it out. But to him, she had always been his number one. People used to praise them for how communicative they were but they were plain  _ idiots _ . She should’ve told him sooner. They could’ve talked. (But she didn’t want to talk. He should’ve gone after her.  _ Fuck _ . He didn’t even know where she was.) His thoughts were a mess.  ****

The EP was a message, at least he was right about that. Only he didn’t know how to respond. Should he respond? Luke perked up. He hasn’t thought about that. He went to Facebook and clicked on her profile, her smiling face punishing him. People were seeing that smile right now and he wasn’t one of them. He opened the chat tab.  __

**_loved the ep jules_ **

Before he thought the better of it, he tapped  _ enter  _ and rolled away from his desk. They were together for six fucking years, the least he could do was acknowledge her successes (even if she didn’t - someone had to pass the olive branch).  ****

And then, like as signal from Atlantis, three dots appeared on screen. Luke rushed back, nearly toppling over his chair in the process as he clutched his computer. 

**_thank you_ **

Luke chuckled, the pads of his fingers caressing the words. This was enough. For now.  ****

One week after the fated message, Luke was preparing for an interview with Rolling Stone. He was meeting up with the interviewer, Victor, at a cafe closeby a record shop he used to frequent. According to the email, they were covering the phenomenon of cult followings in the 21st century, with him being one of those artists. He was hella flattered; he didn’t even know he had a cult following in the first place! He put on his favourite trousers and denim duster and drove to the cafe, Victor instantly recognisable with his professional-looking recorder and fancy pen. Types like him were the real ones.  ****

‘Hey, Victor?’ The man looked up and Luke eagerly shook his hand. ‘I’m Luke, so nice to meet you.’ ****

Victor smiled. ‘Likewise. Sit down. What do you want to drink?’ ****

‘Oh,’ he peered at the board above the bar top. ‘Uh, a latte.’ ****

Pressing record, he said: ‘You drink coffee? Doesn’t it hurt your vocal skills?’ ****

Luke shrugged. ‘I don’t really know what’s good or bad. I just feel what’s good.’ He pointed at the recorder. ‘Is this important?’ ****

The man smiled, tilting his head. ‘Maybe a fun note in the margin. Anyway, Luke, tell me what a day in your life is like. I know that back in the day with Julie and The Phantoms, you said in TigerBEAT magazine that all you did was eat hotdogs and play music, but I think that has changed, no?’ ****

‘Wow.’ Luke was impressed. ‘You did your research. But yeah, it has definitely changed. I, uh, live alone now.’ He paused. He never said that out loud until now. ‘The EP was quickly written, but for an album, I take a few months to write everything and then it takes another month or two to record and produce everything. That’s just what I usually do. Writing. Oh, and I eat healthier now… I did have pizza yesterday.’  ****

Victor laughed at his confession, scribbling something down. ‘I had pizza too. I picked up on some hesitation. Why’s that?’ ****

He froze. ‘What d’you mean?’ ****

‘When you said you lived alone. Why did you hesitate?’ When he didn’t reply, Victor leaned forward and said: ‘Does it have anything to do with Julie Molina?’ ****

Luke wanted to punch the guy. What the hell did Julie have to do with a profile on his career? What the hell did his personal life have to with  _ anything _ ? It should only ever be about the music! ****

‘Fans have noticed her inactivity on social media and that she has removed you from her feed. You’ve broken up in private, correct?’ ****

Luke could only nod, clenching his hands under the table. His latte was getting cold.  ****

‘So, it is not farfetched that your new EP “empty apartment” is about her, right?’ ****

‘No,’ Luke managed to say. ‘It’s not farfetched.’ ****

‘Do you think that’s why you have a cult following? Because of how personal your songs are?’ ****

Luke nodded, wary. ‘I think so. I didn’t realise I have a “cult following” though - that’s pretty gnarly. I think I just draw from the same experiences a lot of other people have and am just honest about it. No romanticising or something.’   


‘Do you think Julie did the same with her EP?’ ****

‘I thought this interview was about me,’ he bit. ****

Victor paused and took a sip from his black coffee. ‘It is. But it seems like she is an integral part of you and of the process.’ ****

He slammed his hand on the table. ‘Can we  _ not  _ talk about her?’  ****

‘Why’s that?’ ****

‘Why’s that?’, Luke repeated in a hissed tone, anger twisting his expression. He was somewhat starting to deal with the break-up and this asshole did not have to bring it up every two fucking seconds. ‘Because I lost my best friend. _That’s why_. Write that down in your fucking notebook.’ 

Victor smirked, irking Luke. Was that guy fazed by nothing?! ‘You’re driven by passion - very rock and roll.’  ****

Luke was lost. ‘What?’ ****

‘If I wanted a fluff piece, Luke, I would’ve asked any TikTok star trying to get into pop music. You, on the other hand, are real. A raw gem of this generation. I just wanted to see how far I could push you.’  ****

He mellowed down, shifting in his seat. ‘Oh.’ He wasn’t sure if Victor’s methods were orthodox, but at least he was honest about it. ‘Thanks, I guess.’ ****

‘Do you want to talk about the songs in detail?’ ****

Luke smiled. ‘Yeah. I’d like that.’ ****

The article appeared two weeks later in print and online, his picture blown up on page fifteen. It narrated a small biography, his early upbringing, the Julie and The Phantoms era, his two solo albums, the EP, and at the end a small note about Julie herself.  ****

_ Julie Molina, singer-songwriter and Luke’s ex-girlfriend, was the inspiration for most of his songs. In fact, she was the inspiration for most of his life. Julie is a modern day muse, thus Luke. But most of all, a best friend. You can stream her music on Spotify under her titular Julie Molina profile. _

Here you go Jules, Luke thought, your cosmic sign. He tacked the article on the fridge as his phone was burning red with messages and phone calls. Mostly from Alex and Reggie. The latter snapping a pic of him struggling to hold twenty magazines from a kiosk, the former going insane and showing a picture of Time Square where Rolling Stone used him as an ad on a billboard. Luke grinned: this proved to anyone who ever doubted him that this was what he was born to do! He was gonna be legendary! He was here to stay to kick ass and make killer songs.  ****

His manager, Crystal, also called. Charlie’s Shack, a venue on Sunset Boulevard he often played at, asked for him. CS was known for making last-minute decisions and only the people in the know were able to get it. Very LA.   
**** Two hours later, he was on their stage playing songs from the EP and his regular hits. He was relishing the moment, how he could see the first rows of eager faces wanting to hear every note and lyric that left his mouth. He told some jokes and stories in between the songs that made the crowd laugh and  _ God  _ \- he could never stop doing this.  ****

‘So, uh,’ he wiped the sweat of his forehead (which was useless anyway; he was drenched), ‘this is the last song for the night.’ ****

The crowd booed. ****

‘I know, fucking sucks.’ ****

They laughed.  ****

‘But this song - it has a funny story. I used to know this guy, Bobby, and he wanted to get into the music scene as well and he did that by trying to  _ steal my songs _ ! Yeah, fucking insane! And the funny thing is, he tried to steal this one, and it’s about how much of an asshole he was. So yeah, this is “Crooked Teeth”. Enjoy.’  ****

The night ended with an ovation that lasted for ten minutes, Luke with an ear-splitting grin as he kept bowing and adding a random electric riff to spark even more uproar. He didn’t care if he was being an egomaniac; today was one of the best days he has had in a while. He didn’t think about Julie and her EP and how much he missed her and how much he wanted her back. He didn’t think about how he hasn’t spoken to his parents ever since he graduated. He didn’t think about the empty apartment. Hell, he didn’t even cry today.  ****

The only thing that mattered was the cheering crowd. As long as they cheered for him, he’d be okay.  __ ****

Backstage, tech and crew applauded him as well, slapping him on the back and complimenting his vocals. An assistant handed him a waterbottle and all the rush and adrenaline and intensity faded away as the door of his dressing room fell shut. Luke plopped down on the couch, inhaling deeply. Finding his phone from between the pillows, he scrolled down his contacts until he found Julie, finger lingering on her name. In a different life, he’d text her the show went great.  ****

As he was contemplating the move, the door opened again and a boom of noise came in along with Crystal and a girl. The door closed again.  ****

‘Hi, Luke, great performance.’ ****

‘Thanks Crystal!’ ****

Crystal motioned at the girl. ‘This is Valeria Coppola. You may know her? She’s a Youtuber?’ ****

The girl smiled and waved and Luke pressed a polite smile on his lips. He didn’t know her.  _ Awkward _ . Regardless, he stood up and shook her hand.  ****

‘Nice to meet you.’ ****

‘Nice to meet you too.’ ****

‘The interview has sparked some questions,’ Crystal continued, ‘since they got the scoop that you and Julie broke up.’ ****

He frowned. ‘So?’ ****

‘They’re wondering who you’re going to date next.’ ****

Luke blinked. Can he just for one fucking second enjoy a moment while it lasted? He just rocked the stage of Charlie’s Shack and Crystal was bombarding him with relationship stuff. In front of a  _ stranger _ ! When he crossed his arms, she trudged on. ****

‘Valeria’s team and I were talking, and we were wondering… how you’d feel about being seen with her around LA.’ ****

His stomach dropped. ‘Wow,  _ what _ ?’ ****

‘We wouldn’t be in an actual relationship,’ Valeria rushed, trying to diffuse. ‘I have a memoir coming out and your EP just launched. It would be good publicity for the both of us.’ ****

‘Especially since Valeria is the sweetheart of Youtube right now!’, added Crystal.  ****

‘No,’ he said, resolute. If there was one thing about LA he absolutely dispised, was the fakeness of it all. Why couldn’t music be the forefront of everything? Why did it have to be about optics and clicks and being seen by the paps for doing  _ nothing _ ? Wasn’t being highly publicised by Rolling Stone enough? They just skyrocketed him to a different stratosphere!  ****

And before he could hold himself back, he said: ‘A memoir? But you’re…’ ****

‘Twenty-four,’ she smiled, ‘I know. It’s a good business move though.’ ****

‘Okay,’ he muttered, taking a gulp from his water. ‘Nice to meet you, Valeria, but no thank you.’ He crossed Crystal. ‘I will never do that. You know I’m all about making good music and  _ that’s it _ . No BS.’ ****

Crystal flushed. ‘Right. Sorry, Luke.’ Valeria smiled and waved one more time and then the two left. Luke puffed.  _ Jeez _ . The gnarly snacks in the room couldn’t even lift his spirit anymore. He patted his pants for the phone and stared at Julie’s name once more before pocketing it again. He shouldn’t push it.  ****

The remainder of August was quite uneventful. Luke filled the loft with more clippings and trinkets and random stuff he found on flea markets downtown in hopes of adding the charm he had been missing. (It didn’t.) He drove by his old apartment and he noticed how the light was on, so he presumed someone else lived there now. A different couple. Maybe they were old and wanted to live near the beach for the good air. Maybe they were roommates that found each other on Facebook. Maybe it was a different version of Julie and him, from an alternate universe where they met in college or on Tinder or had a one-night stand and figured “why not?” or maybe, it was just a couple. He never drove past again.  ****

Most of all, he had been mulling over the debacle in the dressing room, with Valeria offering her up for fake news and Crystal encouraging it. It felt gross. Luke has done many impulsive, dumb shit in his short life, but  _ never  _ anything that would taint the way people saw him. And what would Julie have thought if he had done it? Moving on from her in one summer like the biggest douche on the planet. Neither deserved that. 

But he had been thinking about it a lot. About the the loft that wasn’t getting any warmer, about Valeria’s glued smile, about the ghost in the shape of Jules that lingered at every street corner.  ****

Maybe it wasn’t just the small details, maybe it was LA as a whole.  ****

Maybe he just had to up and go. Say “fuck it” and… leave.  ****

The second the thought crossed his mind, he flung upright from his bed. Erratically, his fingers flew across the keys from his laptop and ordered a one way ticket to New York City. He knew Alex lived there, the most rational of his friend group - he would know what to do. He would help Luke further. With shaky hands, he texted Alex that he’d be on his doorstep in four days. The guy texted back with three question marks, but Luke had no time to explain. He had packing some to do.  ****

Crystal was furious and yelled in the phone for so long Luke spaced out. Something about this being the music capitol of the world and that all his business engagements were here and how meetings would become more difficult and that he had to find a different studio and- (And that was when he spaced out. Oops.) 

His decision was final though. He ate his leftovers, sold his car, packed everything in brown boxes and shipped his furniture to a warehouse in NYC.  ****

The echo the keys made when he placed them on the empty kitchen island made him smile. This was good. He was done here. After tying his trusty, blue bandana around his head to keep the shaggy hair from falling in his eyes, he closed the door behind him.  ****

A memory rushed back of Julie slamming the door shut, taking those fuschia bags with her and leaving him. It was the worst day of his life. She took a part of his soul that evening, one that was bigger than him and her combined and had her handwriting, etched in gold. There had been a gaping wound and now, for just a moment, it felt like it was closing. Just a little. This would be a fresh page. Luke gulped back the tears - the happy tears.  ****

If New York would make him feel like himself again - on and off the stage - he would be happy again. He texted Alex he’d be there in four hours and stepped into his Uber.  ****

He didn’t feel so cold anymore.  ****

The moment he saw Alex waiting at the terminal, warmth eased his muscles. The guy hasn’t changed one bit.  ****

Alex moved to NYC when he was nineteen. He was sick of LA culture and the vile people he met there (for a progressive state, there were still some fucked up people), so he just upped and went. The only ones that knew beforehand were the band and Flynn. Not that his parents actually cared. His departure was also the reason why the band disbanded, but everyone saw it coming. Reggie wanted to experiment more and Julie was busy at college and it just didn’t work anymore. But Alex had a solo career now. A  _ successful  _ solo career. He played at all the cool spots and was pretty famous on the east coast. Plus a boyfriend that was everything he had ever dreamed of! At 23, Alex had his life nailed down.

But he hasn’t changed. Still that same grin, still that same cap, still an affinity for the colour pink. ****

They embraced each other tightly. It dawned on Luke then how much he has missed Alex. FaceTime calls and the occasional visit just weren’t the same. The longer he held him, the more Luke was convinced the move was a good choice. 

‘My brother,’ Luke grinned. Alex rolled his eyes, but his gaze said otherwise. Alex has missed him too. 

‘Hi, Luke.’ 

**SEPTEMBER, NEW YORK CITY**

Julie finally listened to his EP. How could she not, when his face was blasted on every billboard and he  _ mentioned  _ her in his interview with Rolling Stone? As his  _ muse _ . Her heart had been stuttering out her chest at the words, warmth flushing her body and rippling her skin with fondness and yearning and  _ God  _ \- he was hers as well. They have always been one side of the same coin, and the same applied to songwriting.  ****

And he loved her EP. Julie smiled at the thought. Luke loved what she made, on her own. She almost didn’t reply, getting ready for her shift and looking at those Tasty videos on Facebook when his message popped up. _ loved the ep jules _ . Something shifted inside of her when she read it.  ****

Slowly, she typed in his name and clicked on the EP. Her eyes flew across.  _ Last hope _ ,  _ august _ ,  _ two ghosts _ ,  _ wonder _ . Four songs, all about her. A trembling finger clicked play and held onto the soft fabric of her sweater.  ****

The sound of his voice ran chills down her spine, so used to hearing it everyday since they were eleven. He recounted how lost he felt without her, their summer apart, how they once lived together and the way he wished to love her again. Raw, unfiltered. Tears streamed down her face by the last song, hands pressed over her mouth to keep the choking sobs at bay. It  _ hurt _ . Anguish whirled around her as the first song began again, drilling his words in her head. She shouldn’t have listened; it was too fresh, too real. It was like they broke up yesterday. 

She couldn’t breathe. 

Julie slammed the laptop shut, pulled on her sneakers and ran out the door. ****

After a brisk walk around the block, Julie decided to sit at a terrace of a cafe she’d been planning to try. She couldn’t be near his music anymore. Not right now. It gave her time to think.  ****

September called for colder weather. Julie, now with an actual closet after getting a lease on an apartment, was able to easily find a jacket and not sift through her messy luggage. After the EP dropped and it got rave reviews that left her in tears and disbelief, she got her own place. Kennedy Birch had a surprisingly strong influence on what people listened to. She still wasn’t sure if it wasn’t all a dream. For so long she has been bitter about the sudden halt of her singing career, but maybe all she ever needed was some faith in herself. Faith in her own, individual prowess as an artist. Or maybe she just needed a Miguel in her life. ****

They’ve become fast friends, him often keeping her company during her shifts and her saving him from Bumble dates gone wrong. He texted her every time he found a flattering tweet or review about her EP and she taught him how to cook something other than Kraft mac and cheese. She was proud of herself for making a true, New York friend.  ****

And so with the EP and her bartending job, she racked in enough money for a small apartment. Flynn was sad to see her leave, but both knew Flynn had been wanting to bring dates home and that wouldn’t be possible if Julie was snoring on the bed. 

It was also in Williamsburg - a few blocks from Flynn’s - in an even  _ older  _ building, but the newly renovated kitchen saved it. As long as she had a good kitchen, Julie was happy.  ****

She remembered Luke and her bringing in the boxes from the U-Haul, huffing and puffing as they ascended the stairs. How happy they were the night after they ate ramen and clementines to unpack everything and make it their own. The shower curtain she tie-dyed herself, his guitars on the wall and that good luck charm of his tacked above the front door, the bouquets of flowers she placed on every countertop. She remembered the movers bringing in the big, grey couch and how Luke pulled her into his chest and murmured how  _ goddamn happy _ he was. Right before everything went to shit.  ****

She thrifted a yellow, velour couch. It suited the space.  ****

September also called for a slight change in her work hours. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays she bartended, Tuesdays and Thursdays she sang. The bar took note of her sudden success and, naturally, capitalised off of that. She didn’t complain; people were  _ asking  _ her to sing, no begging needed. She did feel a little guilty that she maybe claimed someone else’s spot, someone that worked harder than her, but Flynn told her to just take the win.  ****

‘You went through hell, Jules,’ Flynn said. ‘You deserve this!’ ****

‘What about you?’ ****

‘What about me? Girl, my career is on the brink of mainstream! Also, I don’t think rap is the vibe Sunset Pub is looking for.’ Julie couldn’t argue with that, Flynn did tell her she and Bea Miller were talking about a potential collaboration.  ****

Tuesdays and Thursdays became her favourite nights of the week. Word of mouth brought more people in from all sides of New York, all wanting to see the girl that made her start in a little bar - an article on Variety called her “the personification of the New York Dream” - and see if she really had what it takes. She sung her songs, new originals, and if she was feeling particularly brave: poems. Essentially just pieces of text she hadn’t workshopped yet. The buzz around her grew every day, so exponentially she couldn’t keep up. Flynn told her to get a manager. Maybe she could call Crystal, see if she knew anyone reliable in New York?  ****

Her phone vibrated, bringing her out of her reverie. She got a notification from Instagram.  _ Luke Patterson changed his bio!  _ Julie froze. He never changed his bio, uncaring about social media and all that. “I let the music do the talking,” he always said.  ****

**changes…** ****

Changes? What did that mean? Julie bit her lip. Should she ask? Was she even allowed to? He did text her first…  ****

No. She shouldn’t. Things were on the upside. She didn’t want to be dragged down by drama and insecurities. For once, life was  _ simple _ . A simple apartment with a simple, yellow couch and a well-paying job and great friends and a city that, despite her growing fame, didn’t give a damn whatsoever. Luke wasn’t her problem anymore… even if he did call her his muse.  ****

(She couldn’t even lie to herself. He was her problem. She didn’t even care that he was. She wanted him to be.) ****

Flynn tried to get her on the dating apps, but Julie couldn’t do did. Her heart was still gripped around her relationship with Luke. Plus, she had  _ no idea _ how online dating worked. Trusting a stranger enough to go on date with? That sounded terrifying to her.  ****

It hurt. Knowing that she ended it - for the better - but still missed him. She has fantasised of coming home from the bar and finding him on that yellow couch, waiting. What if she made mistake? What if her fuse had been too short and she fucked up? Maybe Luke was right: they would’ve been able to work through it. But they haven’t talked since June.  _ Really  _ talked. Was there anything worth saying when she stormed out, mad and spiteful? Did he even want to talk? His message wasn’t a declaration of love. _ loved the ep jules _ . Something any stranger could say. Not even love -  _ loved _ .  ****

Here she was again, overthinking everything! But his songs! They were singing to her!  ****

And before she could stop herself, her fingers tapped across the screen to his DM’s, wrote “hi” and hit send. Julie gasped, her phone clattered on the table. Shit. Shit shit shit! Groaning, she paid for her untouched lemonade and scurried out of the cafe.  _ Great _ . She, a twenty-two year old woman who was taking on NYC by storm just wrote “hi” to her ex. How dumb was she?! Flynn would never forgive her. Promptly deleting Instagram from her phone, she went back to the apartment. This blunder matched the pain from before, no doubt. 

* * *

**hi**

Luke was dreaming. Did Julie just… DM him? He swore to God he was dreaming. Someone must’ve stolen her phone. ****

‘Why’re you staring at your phone like you just saw Jesus?’, Alex asked, walking in from the kitchen. He plopped down next to Luke, bowl of crisps in his hand. Luke threw a handful in his mouth.  ****

‘Julie texted me.’  ****

Alex frowned. ‘Okay?’ ****

‘Dude, we broke up, you know that.’ ****

‘Yeah, but, it’s normal to text your ex.’  ****

Luke rolled his eyes. Alex was way too pragmatic for this. ‘Yeah, well Julie and I never do things the normal way, I guess.’ ****

He shrugged. ‘She’s doing okay, if you’re wondering.’ He grinned. ‘Finally moved out of Flynn’s apartment.’  ****

‘What?!’, Luke yelled, startling Alex so hard he choked on a crisp and threw the bowl on the ground. His heart was beating a mile a minute. ‘Julie’s  _ here _ ?! Why didn’t you tell me?!’ ****

‘I thought you knew!’, Alex sputtered, regaining his breath.  ****

‘If I  _ knew  _ I would’ve texted you every second of the day about how she’s doing!’ Luke ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends. Julie has been here all this time. At Flynn’s no less! Flynn lived in Williamsburg, just a neighbourhood away from Alex’s. All the colour rushed from his face. Holy shit. He could run into Julie on the street at any given moment.  ****

‘... okay, yeah, fair, valid. Sorry.’  ****

Luke grabbed him by the shoulders. ‘Does she know I’m here?’ ****

Alex shook his head, easing Luke a little. He couldn’t believe both of them ran off to NYC. He should’ve expected it though; Flynn was basically Julie’s sister. Luke started pacing in a very Alex-like manner.  _ Julie was here _ . He kind of forgot what she looked like. Sure, his lockscreen was a photo of them (taken by Reggie, the two of them cuddled on the grey couch they bought for the apartment in LA), but that wasn’t  _ real _ . He didn’t remember the shape her lips made when she smiled, or which eye closed a little more when she laughed, or how the constellation of freckles on her nose went again. Did her hair grow or did she cut it? The look Alex gave him showed that he knew what Luke was thinking and scrunched his nose.  ****

‘If you want to talk to Julie, you’ll have to do it yourself. I’m not gonna be middle-man. Have enough anxiety as is.’  ****

‘She won’t talk to me,’ he groaned. He dismissed the DM; Julie wasn’t impulsive like that. ‘It’s driving me insane!’ ****

Alex smiled, rueful. ‘You want me to give you her address?’ ****

‘I can’t just show up at her door!’ He paused. ‘Or…? No, no, no. I shouldn’t.’ He looked at Alex, mischievous. ‘Should I?’ ****

‘Luke.’ ****

‘You should’ve just said nothing cause now I can’t stop thinking about it!’ He finally stood still. ‘Sorry. You can give her address and I guess I’ll see for myself if I’m in the danger zone or not.’ Luke vividly remembered having a similar conversation about a different topic with Julie when they were sixteen and writing Edge Of Great. They were one song away from legendary status, one hit away from playing at The Orpheum and fulfilling their dreams. It fuelled their fire and, incidentally, Edge Of Great became the one that rose them to stardom. Getting details on your ex wasn’t  _ quite  _ the same, and younger Luke would’ve cringed at the thought, but he was getting desperate. He was  _ done  _ feeling desperate.  ****

There were nine million bicycles in New York City. One of them was hers. The scrap of paper with her address burned in his pocket. 

* * *

‘Oh, Willie! Hey!’ Flynn’s theory of NYC being a small town was slowly coming true. On one random Wednesday afternoon, she was able to run into Willie at Trader Joe’s. To be fair, it was the only supermarket in their radius that didn’t smell like piss, so it wasn’t quite a surprise either. She threw the bag of potatoes in her cart and went in for a hug. Willie smiled and hugged her back, that perpetual gleam in his as if he were planning something mischievous. How it didn’t unnerve Alex sometimes, Julie didn’t know. (Or it was  _ exactly  _ why Alex liked him. Huh. She should ask him.)  ****

‘Hey, superstar.’ ****

She rolled her eyes. ‘Very funny. Are you feeling ready for the tournament?’ ****

Willie quirked a brow. ‘Yes, but Julie. You’re on Spotify’s list of rising stars.’ ****

Oh.  _ Oh _ . Oh my God. She slowly turned to him. ‘What?’ ****

‘You didn’t know?’ ****

‘No! How do  _ you  _ know that?!’ Willie wasn’t the biggest music junkie so it was odd he found this out before her.  ****

‘I didn’t. Luke did.’ ****

Her heart stopped. ‘Luke?’ ****

‘Yeah. Told us when he ate dinner with us last night. I made some mean chili sin carne.’

Colour drained from her face and stumbled to grab her cart. She felt off her axis, a feeling of nausea entering her stomach. ‘Luke’s… here?’ ****

A awkward laugh puffed from his lips. ‘ _ Right _ . You didn’t know. Alex should tell me how to go about your drama more.’ ****

‘It’s not drama!’, Julie squeaked.  ****

He shrugged. ‘To me it is.’  ****

She sighed, trying to gain control of her screaming nerves. ‘So, Luke is in New York. Why?’ ****

‘He got sick of LA.’ Then, something changed in his stance and added: ‘He knows you’re here too.’ ****

The thought that Luke could be mere blocks away filled her with dread and exhilaration all at once. Dread, because what if she bumped into him and wasn’t ready? Exhilaration, because… because it was  _ him _ . And as much as she hated how her thoughts always ended with him, how all the roads led to him - he was still a part of her. And she was hopeful she was still a part of him.  ****

Then, all of a sudden: ‘Wait, is he with you?’ She whipped her head back, as if he’d pop out from aisle three any second.  ****

Willie laughed. ‘No. Calm down, Julie. I think he’s apartment hunting right now.’ ****

‘Oh.’ So, the move was legit? He truly left LA, the place that he forever believed dreams came true? Where they’d become legends? It sounded fake to her. And yet.  ****

A smile tugged on his lips. ‘Crazy how we all end up in the same place, huh?’ ****

‘Yeah,’ she breathed. She looked down at her cart, unable to think straight. ‘I… I have to go. Say hi to Alex for me.’ ****

‘Sure.’ He patted her shoulder in a way that was both friendly and comforting. ‘See you, superstar.’ Willie rolled away.  ****

Julie was left standing aimlessly at the spinach. The string of moments that began with a screaming match and ended with both Luke and her in the same borough shook her intensely. It was like an invisible string wrapped around their wrists; one tugged, the other followed - even if they were mad. On the one hand, it sounded awfully co-dependant, on the other hand, it felt  _ right _ . Like it was meant to be and while Julie long stopped believing in soulmates and fate (because if it were true, then why did the world strip away her first soulmate, her mother?), but she did believe in cosmic signs. In the pull she felt behind her navel when something happened and she knew it was  _ right _ . Perhaps he felt that pull too.  ****

She finally got into motion, grabbed the bag of spinach and went back for a tub of Ben & Jerry. A glass of wine and icecream was exactly what she needed. She called Flynn that night and the girl was at her door fifteen minutes later. They rewatched Twilight and drank their wine and ate the icecream and laughed and neither said anything about the boy sleeping in Bedford-Stuyvesant. When they went to sleep, side by side and noses just inches away, Flynn whispered: ‘What’re you gonna do?’ ****

Julie grinned. ‘What’re  _ you  _ gonna do with all that sugar in your system?’ ****

‘Jules.’ If this conversation wasn’t so serious, Flynn would be babbling and bouncing off the walls.  ****

Her smile dropped. ‘Well, I’m regretting that DM.’ ****

‘As you should.’ ****

‘But… I don’t know.’ She turned around. ‘I’ll tell you when I’m ready.’ ****

Flynn paused. ‘Ready for what?’ ****

She closed her eyes, holding on to the feeling of not Flynn, but Luke laying next to her. She wanted to kick herself for falling in the same memories over and over again, but they were all-consuming. Memories of him whispering her new melodies to lul her asleep when her mom was on the forefront of her mind. She missed the softness of his worn in t-shirts and how she curled into him even if he went to sleep hours after her. She missed waking up and having him absentmindedly draw patterns on her skin and then, when he noticed she was awake, not stopping. She missed his smile. She missed  _ him _ . It hurt.

(But it hurt when he stopped putting her first too.) 

‘Ready to be with him again.’

* * *

Julie wasn’t the last person Luke expected a text of, but Flynn. While they were friends, Flynn and Julie always had been sisters. He knew that the moment Julie left, Flynn would be on her side and never even  _ think  _ to change camp. He couldn’t blame her. (Sometimes he wished Alex was a little more confrontational too - whatever.)  ****

As Luke was unpacking his clothes into his new closet, he got her text. 

**heard ur in nyc!! can we meet up?**

In a different situation, Luke wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. Flynn was one of the coolest people he has ever met and any moment with her was dope. He remembered in high school the amount of times Flynn and him caused chaos in the classrooms, and if Reggie was involved, no one was safe. But now? With her being on Julie’s side… he felt iffy about it.  ****

He pushed it aside though, he hasn’t seen Flynn in over a  _ year _ . 

**yes!! bro i missed you**

**where do you wanna go?**

They met at a coffee shop just five blocks from his place. Luke was easy to please when it came to material stuff. So yeah, the apartment was small and kind of smelly, but it was in the heart of Williamsburg (which had the best clubs - hell yeah!)  _ and  _ the landlord allowed instruments. It was good enough for him. It reminded him of the garage.  ****

Luke hugged her and complimented her purple braids.  ****

‘Thanks,’ she smirked, ‘the fans love it too.’ ****

He snapped his fingers. ‘I love your new single! The beat drop on the second verse is fucking awesome.’ ****

‘I know! It almost wasn’t in there!’ ****

‘Dude.’ ****

‘Yup.’ They smiled at each other, a familiar feeling of camaraderie returning, before her expression changed. He shifted. The look in her eye oddly resembled Victor’s. ‘Not to ruin the spirit, but I wanna talk about Julie.’ ****

He leaned back. ‘Yeah… I was expecting that.’ ****

Flynn leaned forward, meaning business. He was keenly aware that she used to be their no-nonsense manager. ‘I’m worried about her.’ ****

‘Cool. Me too.’  ****

‘Luke, I’m scared you and her will just make the same mistakes again.’ Flynn didn’t beat around the bush, ambushing him with the same thought that continuously plagued his mind. He was stunned.  ****

She went on. ‘Did you listen to her EP?’ ****

He nodded.  ****

‘Then you know she still loves you.’ ****

He gulped, heart beating in his ears at the sound of someone else voicing what he had bee thinking. He nodded again. Jules did love him. (He never stopped.)  ****

‘And your EP is the exact same.’ When he still didn’t say anything (because really, what was there to say?), she sighed. ‘I just want what’s best for Julie.’

Luke placed his hands flat on the table. ‘What if I’m best for her? What if she’s best for  _ me _ ?’ What if they were part of each other, he wanted to say, like tails and heads on a coin or two singers that harmonise perfectly.  ****

She crossed her arms. ‘And how did that work out for you?’ ****

Aight. He had to put a stop on this. ‘Look, I know I fucked up. We  _ both  _ did. We both got fucking lost in trying to be in our twenties and be in a relationship and figure out how to mix that with music and we failed. But I know we belong together. I can feel it.’ He placed his hand on hers. ‘Flynn, I appreciate the concern, but this is something Jules and I have to figure out.’ ****

Flynn sighed, nodding. ‘Fine… I’ll keep being pushy though.’ A smile crawled on her lips. ‘I loved “Wonder”.’ ****

He grinned. ‘Thanks.’ ****

Luke went back to his apartment that afternoon with a hopeful note swelling in his chest. Flynn reaffirmed his thoughts. Julie did still love him; maybe not the same, maybe not in the way she did when they were sixteen or nineteen or twenty-one, but she did love him. And their love could be better now. Brighter! He should just go in ambush mode! Smother her with all his affection! What should he do? Serenade her? Nah, he already did that  _ a lot _ .  ****

He remembered the first time he did it. They were thirteen and he was heavily denying his crush on her and he just wrote his first song. It was just a verse and a chorus and full of cliches but he was excited. Scratch that:  _ electrified _ ! He biked to Julie’s garage and sang her the song. It was about living the dream and becoming a rockstar and - now that he thought about it - the seed for their band they would create a year later. Afterwards, Julie applauded and whistled as if it were a true concert and hugged him tightly, his guitar digging in their ribs. When the band got created, he was basically serenading to her all the time, even if the songs weren’t romantic at all. At sixteen, after the infamous Target kiss, he intentionally serenaded her just to see her blush and give him a kiss in the end. And then, it was just the little moments. The quiet ones in between big happenings. Serenading became soft hums that synced with the beat of their hearts. In the kitchen making his omelets, when she tried to fall asleep, when they showered, when they were in a particularly good mood. 

Convincing Julie he still loved her was going to need more. Going to bed that night, all he could think of was new lyrics to hum in her ear.

**A RANDOM MONDAY, WILLIAMSBURG**

Julie was humming along to a familiar song on the radio, waltzing around her small kitchen with a spatula in hand. The bacon was simmering in the pan, delicious aromas drifting in the morning cold. It was a bleary September day, the sky grey and the sun white. Julie liked it though; there was something oddly comforting about the weather. The world slowed down. 

'That was "Sunrise" by Norah Jones,' the radio presenter announced as the song faded out. 'And now, traffic.'

Julie tuned him out, flipping the bacon and going over her agenda for the day. Meet with Universal and as a possible agency to work with (the royalties wouldn't be all hers anymore, but she needed a better studio space and a more experienced producer - no music reporter was allowed to call her music "clunky" anymore), have lunch with Miguel, get groceries (pick up those cupcakes that have been calling her name), get her hands on some Pearl Jam tickets, and tinker on a new song she's been writing. It was about Luke, but it didn't hurt as much as she thought it would. 

'And this is "Two Ghosts" by Luke Patterson, hope you enjoy.'

The soft strums of his guitar replaced the robotic traffic announcements. Julie froze for a moments.  _ He was on the radio _ . She giggled. Luke was on the radio! On one of the biggest radio shows of America! She was so proud! In a spur of spontaneity, Julie amped up the volume on her stereo, drowning out any other noise just to hear him. She closed her eyes and pretended he was here. That he sat on her yellow couch and she was the only one that was allowed to hear it. How he would eventually just forgo the guitar and go acapella, take her by the hand and slow dance with her. Like how they used to, with her head against his chest and his arms enveloped around her waist. She could almost feel his lips against her skin.  ****

Until the smell of burned meat made her come out of her daydream.  ****

'Shit!'

* * *

Luke was jumping around his apartment in excitement, in disbelief that the biggest radio station of the east coast was playing his track! Sure, Luke was mainstream, but this was huge! Only the big leagues like Pearl Jam and The Foo Fighters made it on there.  ****

Alex texted him.  **You're on the radio!!!** ****

Luke sang along at the top of his lungs, playing air guitar as Radio Luke went into the bridge. There was something vulgar about hearing his heartbreak, unannounced and unwarranted, but he also knew there was a high chance Julie was listening right now, which meant they were listening together. As if they were those kids from Strangers Things listening to music through a walkie-talkie. It made him oddly flustered.  ****

In a moment of spontaneity, he contacted the florist next to his building and asked to send a bouquet of flowers to Julie's doorstep. Fuck it. He had to somehow communicate with her and his others options seemed lame or uninspired. Normally, he would've just gone full kamikaze and go to her apartment uninvited to talk it out. But Luke knew better now. Alex gave him a lesson in tact during their weeklong sleepover. This was the  _ perfect  _ excuse.  ****

He ate his cornflakes, double batch, happy he was in the best mood he’s been in a long time. It would help him today.

* * *

After eating a new batch of bacon, Julie got dressed in her best attire. A purple dress and her favourite boots, those with the cute butterflies tacked on. She caressed the tender wings, memories of a younger Julie performing with her Phantoms on the pier before being shooed away by the cops. Before they had their breakthrough. She remembered being fifteen and sprawled on her bed while hot-gluing those butterflies on. These boots have brought her places. Now hopefully with an agency. ****

The doorbell rang.  ****

Julie opened the door only to be met with air. She frowned. Some kid pulling pranks or something? But then she looked down and shock halted her breath. There, placed neatly in a simple vase, was a bouquet of pink dahlias. Only one person would do this. She gasped, tears brimming her eyes.  ****

She gingerly picked it up and placed it on the kitchen island, lip quivering with emotion.  _ Oh, Luke, what are you doing to me?  _ There was a card with a lone "L" (as if she wouldn't know) written in the neat handwriting of the florist. She glanced at the radio, a smile tugging on her lips. Two could play this game. She had five minutes to spare.  ****

A melody that been swirling in her mind brought her to her keyboard, fingers dancing around the keys as she recorded the variation with her phone. She didn't know why she did it, maybe because he was challenging her, maybe because he was asking to see her again, to hold her again. That "Two Ghosts" was about what they lost, but what also could be found again. Her heart grew fonder by the day, remembering more and more why it worked and why she wanted it to work. She was Julie. And he was Luke. But they were also Julie and Luke. They could be  _ both _ .  ****

Maybe that was why she hit send. 

* * *

Luke hadn't expected it.  ****

His phone went off, presumably with another text from Alex or Crystal about his meeting today with the Universal office in New York about his transfer. She couldn't represent him anymore. He understood, he did kind of say "fuck you" without any warning.  ****

It wasn't. It was Julie. Just an hour and a half after he called the flower shop.  ****

It was a simple mp3 file. Nerves spiked in his chest as he clicked on the download button. Had he expected some reply? Sure, but not this fast and  _ definitely  _ not like this. Rather a lowercase "thanks" - or worse: a question mark.

It was twenty seconds. Hesitantly, he clicked play. Luke froze when he heard it was a melody on the piano, unfamiliar yet beautiful. An authentic Molina sound. And then it ended, leaving him lost and warm all at once. There came no reasoning after. Luke smiled, incredulous. Replayed the piece. And again and again and again and again. The music coursed through his veins with a yearning so strong it shocked him. He swallowed, fingers clenched around the device at the intrusive thought of kissing her senselessly.  _ Rude _ . ****

The lyrics that had been pestering him at night suddenly became meaningful. Somehow, Julie just  _ knew _ . It shouldn’t come as a surprise; Julie always knew. Fuck, he had to leave for the meeting but he desperately wanted to work on the song. He hasn’t felt this inspired since the week she left! Disgruntled, he threw his songbook and headphones in his backpack and ran out the door, adamant to work on it on the subway. No way he was letting this musical genius go to waste.  ****

He ran into the last wagon just in time, doors slipping shut with the edges of his coat grazing the rims. Some teenage girl recognised him and simply nodded, a small smile framing her lips. Luke smiled back and sat down. If this were LA, he’d be bombarded. The longer he was here, he realised, the more he felt this wouldn’t be temporary.

Blasting the melody in his ears, he went to work. 

* * *

Julie ran into the first wagon just in time, doors slipping shut with the wings of the butterflies grazing the rims. She got so distracted with playing Luke the melody she’d been toying with that she walked out too late, nearly missing the metro! She would’ve kicked herself if she missed this meeting. She had her hopes set on Atlantic Records. (She was meeting with them next week.) Universal would be fine too, obviously, but then it would feel like she was using Luke’s fame as a crutch. She wanted to succeed completely on her own.  ****

The M-train stopped thirty minutes later, just a few blocks away from the skyscraper where her first meeting with Universal would be held. Julie waited with bated breath for the doors to slide open, but somehow, they were stuck. Seriously?! Right now? She saw as the others wagons opened up and people flooded out.  _ Great _ . She was going to miss this meeting and lose her chance. A businessman was muttering a string of curses under his breath, one kid started crying and Julie was on the brink of tears. After what felt like hours but was probably a solid two minutes, maintenance rushed forward from their booth and opened the door. Julie was the first to escape, running up the stairs into the bright daylight and sprinted like she has never done before. ****

* * *

Luke arrived at the building after a leisurely stroll down the block, feeling less moody after working on the song. He got into the elevator, up to the tenth floor. 

* * *

Julie ran inside the fancy lobby, groaning as she saw the elevator closing. Great. She had to wait another five minutes now. She checked her phone: about seven minutes left. That elevator better go fast… 

* * *

‘Luke! How are you?’ Yousef Abboud, one of the top people on the corporate ladder at Universal, shook his hand. He was in a conference room with five other very proper looking people and he felt a little bit out of place. The muscle tank, thrifted jacket and baggy jeans didn’t seem like the dress code here, but they knew his vibe. They’d understand. ****

‘Good,’ he grinned, ‘how are you?’ ****

‘I’m well, thank you.’ He motioned for them all to sit down. Damn. In an alternate universe, Luke would’ve been like Yousef, commanding people around with just a hand gesture and owning the place. ‘Crystal sent us your file. You want the New York office to start representing you?’  ****

‘Yeah. I just moved here so it seemed like the logical thing to do.’ ****

He nodded, tapping on his laptop. ‘Crystal didn’t mention you discussed this with her.’ ****

‘Uh. Yeah.’ He flushed. ‘I didn’t.’ ****

Yousef grinned. ‘Very 90s. Is the rebel thing part of the brand?’ ****

Luke frowned. ‘What?’ ****

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he dismissed. ‘We’d be happy to represent you. In fact,  _ I’d _ like to manage you. I like your edge. I have a spot free cause another client got a little uh,’ he looked his colleagues and they just shook their heads. Luke held back a laugh, the scene in front of him too comical. ‘Let’s just say he got a God complex.’ ****

‘ _ Right _ ,’ Luke drawled. ‘Well, I usually wanna get to know possible managers before I let them represent me. So can we, like, get drinks sometime?’ He let the question hang in the air, unsure how tight this office was in comparison to the LA one. The west coast was  _ very  _ chill. Yousef’s grin widened, the others copying him. Huh. At least the beehive mind was the same. Yousef seemed like a rad dude though.  ****

‘Sounds good to me. Can I schedule you in for tomorrow evening? There’s a bar across the building with great artisan beers.’ ****

‘Awesome.’ Luke stood up, glad the meeting went well and that he could ease his nagging mind because  _ the song the song the song the song _ . ‘Fastest meeting ever!’ ****

‘Yes, great! Now I have time to get a fourth cup of coffee,’ Yousef joked, but Luke had an inkling it was the uncomfortable truth. New Yorkers drank a lot of fucking coffee. He bid Yousef and the five assistants goodbye and ran out the room in high sprits. This morning could not have gone better. 

* * *

Julie was able to get on the ninth floor with a minute to spare. She was able to flatten her hair a bit, check if her make-up was in tact, and walk in semi-confident. She should’ve meditated this morning or something. Good karma and all that. She stepped into an office, a simple desk and leather chairs, with three people awaiting her.  ****

‘Hi!’ The warm voice belonged to the woman in the middle, clear brown eyes and freckled skin. ‘I’m Helena Pier. We’ve emailed. These are my assistants Xavier and Jenn. Sit down, please.' ****

Her charisma eased Julie a little. Helena seemed like the type of person that would check up on someone as much as she could. ‘Hello, it’s nice to meet you.’ ****

‘Let’s get straight to business, shall we?’, Helena said, typing something on her desktop and facing her. ‘Let me tell you that Uniserval was very thrilled when you reached out to us. A teen phenomenon stepping back into the spotlight as an adult and doing so  _ successfully  _ is the exactly the type of story we want to push here.  ****

‘You were?’ Julie knew they were trying to butter her up, but it felt like Helena was genuine.  ****

‘Of course! You single-handedly wrote the best EP of 2020 in - what did it say on Spotify?’ ****

Julie chuckled. ‘A SoundCloud rapper’s home studio.’ ****

‘Oh my God! How amazing is that?!’, Helena gushed. ‘Anyway. I would love to manage you. The perks of being part of the Universal Group is access to the best studios and producers. If you sign with us, you’ll get the chance to meet plenty of them and see who you match well with. Have you gone over the contract I send you?’ ****

‘Yes. I think the, uh, percentage of royalties is reasonable.’ The jargon was all Greek to her, so Flynn had to help her out a bit.  _ Flynn  _ said it was reasonable; Julie just assumed she was correct in her statement.  ****

Helena smiled. ‘It might seem daunting, having to split it, but it really works out well. Especially with all the added benefits.’ ****

Julie shifted in her seat, suddenly feeling very juvenile in her butterfly boots when Helena was wearing a crisp, pinstriped suit. She was super out of place. ‘What would I… have to do? Like, I just… make music. With “Julie and The Phantoms” we kind of got lucky.’ She decided to exclude the part that they illegally played on busy streets. The Phantoms became infamous around the LA scene; they more so tired people out to get them in proper venues than professionally handling business. Luke and Reggie as the radical ones, Alex and her usually apologising. ****

‘And we don’t want that to change. You just keep writing and making music, and I handle all the PR stuff. Photoshoots, red carpets, meetings, appointments. This will allow you to solely focus on the creative process.’ ****

Julie titled her head. She hasn’t even thought of red carpets until now. The band never made it to that point. Probably because they thought it was crazy anyone wanted to splurge on designer clothing. ‘The red carpet?’ ****

‘Yes! Getting you in the picture, getting you in contact with designers…’  ****

‘I make my own performance wear,’ Julie quipped. ****

Helena looked like she was about to combust with joy. ‘That’s even better! Super Gaga!’ Julie frowned. Lady Gaga didn’t make her own clothing. She tugged at the hem of her dress. The woman dismissed the look on her face. ‘Those are just details. Would you like to have some time to think about it? Let me know by Thursday?’  ****

Julie nodded. ‘That sounds good. Uh,’ she stood up, a question burning on her lips since she first emailed her. ‘And everything - all of this - it has  _ nothing  _ to do with… Luke Patterson?’ ****

Helena’s grin dropped to a reassuring smile. ‘Julie, this is Universal Record Group. Not high school. If we didn’t want you, if we didn’t see talent, then I wouldn’t have replied to your message. You got to this point all by yourself, trust me on that.’  ****

She swallowed back the emotion, her words singing in her body. ‘Thank you.’ She bid her and her assistants goodbye and left the office, a content feeling growing in her stomach.  ****

Her words drummed inside her with every step she took. 

_ You got to this point all by yourself, trust me on that.   
_ _ You got to this point all by yourself, trust me on that.  
_ _ You got to this point all by yourself, trust me on that. _

It was barely eleven in the morning and she had taken so many risks that her body had lost all fucks given and grabbed her phone. There,the heart of New York City amongst the bustle and hustle, between hooting cars and businessmen angrily yelling in their phones, Julie took another voice recording. She hummed a harmony, unable to keep the smile off her face. It didn’t make much sense but the only way she could explain it was that it sounded like joy. Luke had to know how she was feeling right now. 

* * *

Luke was trying (and failing) to find a supermarket in Manhattan. He had gotten familiar with Williamsburg, but this borough was a whole other game. He continuously missed his turns and Google Maps was freaking out. Just when he was ready to throw his phone in the gutter, it buzzed. 

**Julie 💜** _voice_recording_000365.mp3_

He grinned, his frustration forgotten in a snap. This girl… He grabbed his headphones and up it on full volume. This time it was just her voice and a ton of background noise. Why was she outside? Did inspiration struck her in the middle of the street and it couldn’t wait? Flustered affection thudded in his cheeks and arms and heart and - damn, this day was one for the books. He could write a whole album about it.  ****

It was a harmony, irregular and surprising and it jumped from notes and once again, it fit the song he was working on. He wondered if she knew she was unintentionally collaborating with him. She must, right? He whipped around his axis, hoping to get a glimpse of a head of curls, but all he saw was rushing pedestrians and speeding cars. He felt like he was in a maze of ants, crawling from all sides of the world just to be here. Something tugged in his stomach. The sound where he was, was too similar to Julie’s recording. She was  _ here _ . Legit here. Was he going crazy or did he get a whiff of her perfume? Should he keep walking? Turn around? Find her? Let her find him? Should he yell Marco and hope for her to sing Polo back? Retaliate in some way?  ****

Luke swiped his phone to his contacts and called the most recent.  ****

‘Hey, it’s Luke Patterson. From this morning? Hi. I’d like to send out more flowers. How many dahlias do you have?’  ****

After the call, Maps finally calmed down and found him a supermarket a block away. 

(He didn’t notice the fake butterfly on the pavement, fallen from a girl’s boot. Neither saw each other as she passed, both lost in their phones. She almost went into the same supermarket as him but decided to go to one in Williamsburg instead. She swore she smelled his cologne, but it must’ve been a trick of the mind. Something told her to turn around, but the subway was already riding by. It had to wait.)

* * *

Julie walked up the stairs to her apartment with the groceries only to be met with person dropping loads of flowers by her doorstep. Julie’s mouth fell slack, unable to comprehend what was happening. Unable to keep her heart from beating out of her chest. The person looked up, a young man with  _ Magnolia & Memories _ stitched on his shirt. He grinned, throwing his thumb over his shoulder.  ****

‘Delivery from "L". Know the person?’ He grin fell. ‘This is not a stalker… right?’

Julie laughed, emotion stuck in her throat. ‘No! No, it’s fine. Thank you.’ It must be about a dozen bouquets of dahlias in all different colours. They were so vibrant and in your face and she loved it. ****

‘I love them,’ Julie added. ‘Thank you.’ ****

The guy nodded in relief and bid her a good day. Julie stepped over the vases of flowers and carefully placed each one on a countertop. It was now flowers with an apartment and not an apartment with flowers and Julie didn’t want it any other way. She plucked a peach-coloured one, slipping it behind her ear. He must’ve received her voice note well.  ****

God, she had to see him. Right now. She couldn’t wait any longer. All of this just proved to her that… that this was  _ it _ . They were always it. And if a break from one another had to prove that to her, then she didn’t regret it. A song wouldn’t fix their relationship, but this? All of this? ****

She was scared though. What if they met up and she saw him and nothing happened? What if this was a rush of adrenaline and forged memories and that when she saw him, she was reminded again why they were in this situation. Julie didn’t know if she could survive that. Unpacking her groceries, she decided to wait a little longer. It was only noon. Who knew where this peculiar day took her next?  ****

(Was this a cosmic sign, mom? Are you sending him to me?)  ****

She couldn’t linger on it, deciding to change out of her clothes for something more casual for her lunch with Miguel. He was taking her to his all-time favourite brunch spot. Julie wasn’t one to daydrink, but he promised her she’d change her mentality once she tasted the pink mimosas. ****

Miguel waved at her from his seat, her rushing towards the table with a grin. ****

‘Hi Miguel!’ ****

‘Hey!’ He paused. ‘Wow, Julie, you’re glowing.’ ****

She froze, hesitantly touching her face. ‘What?’ ****

‘Yeah,’ he smirked, ‘had a fun night?’ ****

‘Oh my God, no! I’m just… feeling pretty good today.’ Until she was certain she was seeing Luke, she didn’t want to tell anyone. What as going on right now, this non-verbal flirting competition would be weird for anyone outside of themselves. ‘The meeting went well.’ ****

‘That’s amazing! Are you gonna sign?’ ****

Just as she wanted to quip “yes”, the words stumped in her mouth. Was she? She hasn’t really thought about it, so wrapped up with Luke that she hasn’t properly considered the pros and cons. An agency wanted her. What else could she ask for?  ****

‘I’m… considering it,’ she said instead. Miguel tilted his head, intrigued. ‘But what are you up to? I feel like I haven’t spoken to you in ages.’ ****

‘Dramatic, but, that’s why I got you here.’ He drummed on the table, grin building. ‘I got a promotion!’ ****

Julie gasped. ‘Really?!’ ****

‘Yup! You are looking at the social media manager of Grohl's Meadery & Co.’ ****

She hugged him from across the table, empty glasses toppling over but neither cared. In a short amount of time, Miguel has become one of her close friends. He was not Flynn’s friend or Alex’s or Willie’s - hers. And he wasn’t in the music business either. Miguel was a normal twenty-something and it was so refreshing to have that.  ****

‘I was really stressed about it,’ he continued, ‘because Drew - remember him? - had been vying for the spot too and, honestly, I was ready to clock him. He was super confident he got the position.’ A waitress came by and he ordered pink mimosas and french toast for them. Brunch for lunch, Julie liked that. ‘I now have complete control and autonomy over advertising and public image. How fucking amazing is that?!’ ****

‘It is! I’m so proud of you Miguel!’ She squeezed his hand. ‘What’re you gonna do first?’ ****

‘I don’t know, but,’ he waved his hand, ‘let’s not talk about work. You’re watching Fargo too, right?’  ****

They babbled on and, like Miguel said, the food and drinks were to die for. It was when he was on an empassioned speech about Millie Bobby Brown’s acting prowess that he suddenly halted and flitted his gaze past her. Julie looked up from her fruit, frowning.  ****

‘What?’ ****

‘Uh,’ he trailed, looking really anxious. Julie straightened her back.  ****

‘What’s wrong?’ ****

Just as she wanted to turn around to see what bothered him, he grabbed her shoulder.  ****

‘Nothing!’, he spat. ‘It’s nothing. Just thought I saw someone.’ ****

‘A past lover?’, she teased, trying to lift his odd behaviour. Miguel was never like this; the person must’ve been important to him.  ****

He eyed her. ‘Something like that.’ 

* * *

Luke passed by a busy strip of restaurants on his way home. His fingers were tingling to work on the song and, once he had a studio with UMG, get his hands on the production. He’d have to ask Julie first though… face to face, hopefully.  ****

He was this close to stand on her doorstep with the flowers himself, this game of flirting both exhilarating and agonising. He just wanted to  _ see  _ her.  ****

Slamming the door behind him shut, he jumped onto the kitchen counter and propped his songbook on his knee, writing so fast his hand flew off the pages. 

_ I don't wanna say goodbye to another night  
_ _ And watch you walk away  
_ _ I don't wanna let it burn in the city lights  
_ _ And make the same mistakes  _

He turned the page. 

_ I don't wanna waste it, don't wanna waste it  
_ _ I don't wanna waste it  
_ _ Don't wanna waste the night _

He was going to see her tonight. He didn’t know how but he felt it in his bones. The sky was clearing up, the afternoon less bleary than the morning, the buzz in his ribs a promise for later. 

_ The scratch in your voice leaves me no choice  
_ _ And I won't give up, and I can't give up _

He wouldn’t let her walk away again. He couldn’t. He’d run if he had to. 

* * *

‘Maybe if I…‘ Julie twisted her pencil and erased her last words, replacing it with a better synonym. A song had been whispering in the back of her mind during her lunch with Miguel. It was incessant, like a mosquito buzzing in her ear at night. It was a softer duet that eerily sounded like a ballad her and Luke would’ve written for Julie and The Phantoms, but more mature.  ****

‘Yeah,’ she grinned. ‘Yeah, I like that.’ ****

The afternoon gave way to warm sunlight and shifted the dreary Monday to a lighter note. While this meant for her she’d write, eat dinner, maybe watch some Netflix and then tuck in, somehow she felt the day wasn’t over yet. Maybe because of the perpetual aroma of dahlias that has gotten stuck in her nose. Not that she was complaining; it reminded her of the two most important people in her life.  ****

She was getting tired though and this song was nowhere near finished. With her mind on a tricky part, she turned on her Keurig. Nothing happened. She pressed again, focused now. The thing was barely four years old, it couldn’t be broken, could it? She tried again. Then, the machine made some churning, sputtering noises, rattled for a moment, and then died. It just died. What the fuck. ‘Are you kidding me?’, Julie moaned, hitting the side.  _ Great _ . Now she had to put  _ best buy _ on her agenda for tomorrow. She didn’t even know coffee machines could die, seeing as her dad’s has survived all through the 90s until now.  ****

Julie contemplated for a second. She still wanted to finish the song today, or at least its skeleton, but she losing steam. She needed caffeine and some energy drink wouldn’t do. She wasn’t one to write in busy cafes but… a first for anything, right? Today seemed to be filled with those anyway. Packing up her supplies in her tote, she left her apartment. 

A gentle breeze rustled the clothes of pedestrians as she walked out onto the pavement drenched in gold. Julie remembered seeing an old-fashioned, little diner down the street, next to that florist she loved so much. It would do.

The bell above the doorway rang as she stepped inside, greeted as well by the waitress behind the bar. The smell of coffee instantly lifted her sullen mood. (Fuck you, Keurig.) She took a seat in a cozy nook all the way in the back and tucked her legs under her, pressed against the blue leather.  ****

The waitress came by five minutes later and gave her a full cup of pure, black coffee. She usually liked something lighter, but she needed the ammo right now. 

_ These four lonely walls have changed the way I feel  
_ _ I'm standing still  
_ _ And nothing else matters now you're not here  
_ _ So where are you?  
_ _ I've been calling you  
_ _ I'm missing you _ __

* * *

Seriously?! His fuse had to blow right now?! He should’ve known an old Victorian building made from bricks and straw didn’t have a reliable power. There was still enough light outside, but he knew it would fade soon. It’d be better if he found a place to write. He snapped his fingers. There was a diner right next to the flower shop!

* * *

_ Where else can I go? Where else can I go?  
_ _ Chasin' you, chasin' you  
_ _ Memories turn to dust  
_ _ Please don't bury us, I got you  
_ _ I got you _ __

* * *

Luke walked inside, a charming smile slipping on his lips as a way to greet the waitress that was refilling the coffee machine. He took a seat at the bar. ‘A coffee, please.’ As he placed his songbook and pen on the countertop, he felt an odd sense of familiarity, as if he’d been here before when he was younger. He hadn’t though. But something about the smell…  ****

He straightened his back.  _ Dahlias _ . 

* * *

_ Runnin', runnin', runnin'  
_ _ Ain't runnin' from myself no more  
_ _ I'm ready to face it all  
_ _ If I lose myself, I lose it all _ __

Julie grinned, proud of herself for getting this far. (The bell rang.) It was definitely more melodramatic than she was used to, but it worked. She could see how well they’d harmonise, how they’d go an octave higher in the end, the deep bass in the background - yeah, this was a hit. Julie grabbed for her cup but it felt weightless. She peered inside. Oh. Empty already.  ****

‘Can I get a refill, please?!’

* * *

‘Can I get a refill, please?!’ 

Luke froze. Every single second since the moment she left the apartment all came down to this. All the anguish and loss he felt, all the songs he’s written, the piece of his soul she’s ripped away from him - everything. Julie was here. ****

He swivelled in his chair, seeing the tops of her curls above the leather couches. He left his supplies, slowly walking towards her. Step by step, he saw more of her features: the ends of her hair, the slope of her nose, her focused eyes, the smile edging in her lips. Luke wanted to cry. Finally, after four months without his soulmate, she was here.  ****

‘Jules?’

**** Her pen clattered on the table, head whipping up at the sound of his voice. Her jaw fell slack. 

‘Luke?’

His thoughts were going a mile a minute, wanting to say and do everything at once. He wanted to apologise and scream and cry and kiss her and make love to her. He wanted to cup her face to make sure she was real; that his mind wasn’t playing tricks with him out of desperate yearning. 

Julie rushed out of her seat and he took a tentative step forward. Face to face. Once again.  ****

Tears began streaming from her face. ‘I’m sorry.’ ****

Luke grabbed her hands, the sensation of feeling her skin against his like nirvana. ‘Jules, I’m sorry.’  ****

‘I let you go.’ ****

‘I let you run.’ ****

‘I shouldn’t have let you go in the first place.’ ****

‘But it was worth it, right?’, he grinned, wiping away the wetness underneath her eyes and leaving his to roll across his cheeks. ‘You wrote a killer EP.’  ****

‘I…’ Emotion stuck in her throat, desperation and disbelief written on her face as she simply shook her head. Her eyes roved across his face, taking him in the way he was taking her in. And then she kissed him. ****

Luke weaved his fingers through her hair and pulled her close, kissing her back, hard. It was as if he’d been underwater for years and came up for air, feeling so clear and calm. They were crying through it all, but unlike in June, they were happy ones.  ****

‘I love you,’ he whispered against her lips.  _ I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you  _ ****

She smiled with the intensity of the sun and he knew they’d be alright. ‘I love you too.’ But then her expression changed and averted her gaze.  _ Oh _ . ‘But is that enough? What if we fall into the same patterns again. Of resentment?’  ****

‘We won’t,’ he rushed out, hands shaking. ‘We just outgrew the  _ old  _ us. And we needed this break, I don’t regret that. But I never outgrew  _ you _ . We just have to…’ ****

Julie quirked a smile. ‘Meet again?’ ****

‘Yeah,’ he breathed. As long as she smiled he’d be okay. ‘Exactly.’  ****

She nodded. ‘I’d like that.’ And then, ‘I love you.’ She laughed, wholly this time. His heart bursted with newfound energy at the sound alone. God, he loved her. ‘I can’t stop saying it,’ she giggled. ‘I love you. I love you.’ ****

‘Je t’aime,’ he teased. ****

‘Your French is horrible.’ ****

‘Hey!’  ****

‘Uh…’ They looked away from each other, the waitress hopping from one foot to the other looking thoroughly uncomfortable. ‘You wanted a refill?’

**  
**  


They kept talking in Julie’s apartment until the sun came up, eating ramen and clementines on the floor. Sharing their new experiences and memories from before. He was encased in yellow as the sun came up, she in pink. He met New Julie, and she was more lovable and thoughtful than he thought she could be. She met New Luke, just as cheesy but a bit more introspective. They loved both. 

He showed her the song he has written with her excerpts and heard her humming the lyrics as he made them omelets. Mushrooms and bacon and cherry tomatoes and the distinct smell of dahlias. They sat on her small balcony and watched as New York awakened. 

‘I don’t wanna leave,’ she whispered. ****

‘Hm?’ ****

‘This balcony,’ she smiled, ‘but also this city.’ ****

He chuckled. ‘Me neither.’  ****

‘Yeah?’ ****

‘LA wasn’t for me anymore.’ ****

Julie stayed silent for a moment, pensive. He looked at her, unfathomable that he was  _ looking  _ at her. She was the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen. ****

Her eyes gleamed when she met his stare. Something settled in his chest. It was as if New York wasn’t there, or space, or time, or anything. It was just him and her and their heartbeats. He only saw her. 

‘Then we stay.’

**FIN**


	2. And Then Some Other Stuff Happened, Also In Williamsburg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an epilogue and also some more pictures

**And Then Some Other Stuff Happened  
Also In Williamsburg**

Julie and Luke move into a new apartment together one month later. Still in Williamsburg (that place stuck like glue) but it was charming and spacious and perfect for them. 

Both decided to also take new musical endeavours and _not_ sign with the New York office of UMG. Instead, they began their own production company. Phantom Records. They leased a small studio space and that would be their creative hub. All of a sudden, they were completely autonomous. 

Julie released more singles and Luke another EP, both gaining more momentum, press and hype.

On a trip to Lake George they wrote eight songs and two poems while staying in a cabin. When they figured this was a perfect collaboration, they drove back to NYC in a frenzy and recorded an entire album in a month. BLUSH was born into existence and the internet exploded. 

And then more crazy shit happened, that neither expected. 

Yeah, the fucking Grammy's. Their high school principal was right all along. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ignore the UMG logo on the album of BLUSH. I made the cover before I made the decision to not make them sign with them.
> 
> below this is a link where i placed all the songs i used for the albums i made  
> https://64.media.tumblr.com/050a4185a5343a9886c3efc96ce789b7/8361578a77aa4e4f-7d/s640x960/adcd91bf7afda8daf09673100a1eeaceadacc5e7.png
> 
> songs i used but aren't included in the albums were "waste the night" by 5sos and "runnin (lose it all)" by beyonce


End file.
